


Partners. Friends.

by frankie_mcstein



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV)
Genre: Don't threaten mums, Especially around Riggs, Gen, Hurt Riggs, Riggs is a big dumb hero, Riggs is impulsive, Robbers be stupid, Roger is unimpressed, Worried Roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 14:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: All Roger wanted was to make Riggs pay the cheque into his bank. Just one mature, adult thing. So, naturally, a group of would be bank robbers had to come bursting in.





	Partners. Friends.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic, as with many others, was written with DinerGuy in mind. And not just because she does the beta-ing. She did beta it though, so any mistakes are hers.

It had been such a simple idea: collect Riggs, drive Riggs to the bank, stand over Riggs and force him to deposit the cashier’s cheque. Nothing to it. Except, of course, that this was Riggs, and nothing had ever seemed to go easily from the moment they had first met.

Riggs had moaned about being woken up early (“It’s almost midday, Riggs! Get your scruffy backside off that couch and into the car.”), which had messed up step one a little. Then, once they got to the bank, Riggs had fumbled in his pockets for a second before confessing, with an apologetic look that Roger almost believed was genuine, that he had left the cheque in the trailer. So much for step two.

The ride back to the beach had been slightly tense, with Riggs apparently picking up on Roger’s deteriorating mood (and apparently thinking it meant he should be hyper annoying to compensate) but they had made it, found the cheque, and managed to get back to the bank before it closed for lunch.

There were only two people ahead of them in the queue, one of the benefits of having a smaller local branch, and Roger was actually starting to feel pretty good about the chances of successfully completing his ‘Force My Partner To Do This One Responsible Adult Thing’ plan.

So, naturally, that’s when the masked gunmen burst into the bank. Two shouted at the customers to get down on the floor, two covered the tellers as they were ordered to come out from behind the counter, and the final two had locked the door, flipped the sign to ‘closed,’ and pulled the shades. Roger caught Riggs’ eye as the two of them lowered themselves to the floor and gave a tiny nod in response to the barely imperceptible shake of the head that Riggs gave. Too many civilians, too many bad guys, too risky to take them on. Roger was pretty sure Riggs’ assessment of the situation would change the second one of the bad guys did something to genuinely threaten the safety or wellbeing of one of the civilians and found himself crossing his fingers, hoping against hope the robbers would empty the vault and scram.

***

It had been fifteen minutes since they were screamed at to “Get down, right now! Eat carpet!” and Roger was still feeling put out by the fact that he and Riggs were being held by robbers too stupid to realise the floor was tiled. Bailey was literally never going to let this go. Part of Roger suspected that he was focusing on the wrong thing to distract himself from the disaster the day was turning out to be. More sirens sounded briefly outside, and he allowed himself a quick, vicious grin at the thought that the silent alarm had done more to mess up the robbers’ plans than Riggs had managed to do to his.

Thinking about Riggs made Roger lift his head to throw yet another warning glance his partner’s way. Riggs was staring at the floor with a sort of single-minded determination that made Roger feel sorry for the idiot who came between Riggs and that oddly dark green tile that was the focus of his attention. Not that he didn’t understand. The second they’d realised one of the tellers was heavily pregnant, the robbers had used her as a way of controlling everyone else in the bank.

“Don’t get any clever ideas now. No one here wants the blood of two innocent people on their hands, do they?”

Roger’s temper had flared and his head had snapped up, but he’d noticed the man’s finger wasn’t actually on the trigger, and he’d forced himself not to react. Beside him, he had felt Riggs tense every muscle in his body, as though he were getting ready to launch himself head-first at all six of the armed crew, and Roger had shaken his head as violently as he dared. Sirens wailing outside had broken the moment, and now, apart from the occasional cruel comment designed to keep their captives in check, everything inside the bank was quiet as the men whispered amongst themselves.

Instead of one man being in charge, it seemed as though they were trying to diplomatically decide what to do. Four of them gathered together and had a whispered discussion, then two left the conversation and took over watching the hostages and the conversation began again with the newly formed foursome. If he hadn’t been so worried about Riggs doing something stupid (and here his mind helpfully supplied the definition of both stupid and heroic and challenged him to choose between the two), Roger would almost have enjoyed watching the bizarre scene unfolding in front of him.

“Babies are so cute. How long can a cute little baby survive once the mommy stops breathing?” The question was met with a half-stifled sob, and Roger’s stomach churned as he heard Riggs suck in a quick, sharp breath. Riggs’ eyes were still fixed on the tile, but his face was a mask of anger, and Roger had a sudden insight into some of the questions that must have been tormenting Riggs since Miranda had been killed.

“Think I saw it in a film once.” The conversation between the robbers seemed to have broken up as another man sauntered over to the middle of the room where they had forced the pregnant teller to stand in full view of all the other hostages, should any of them lift their heads. “It was like ten minutes or something.”

In his head, Roger was yelling at them to shut up. He could see Riggs’ hands curling into slightly shaking fists, could hear Riggs’ breathing as anger made it pick up, and Roger dreaded what was going to happen if the idiots with the guns should keep talking.

“Course, then they had to rush to save the kid. So there was no time for niceties. They just took a knife, pushed up her top, and sliced into her.”

The young woman gave a strangled scream and wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach as she tried to back away from the now grinning men.

There was a blur of movement and a yell of pure fury as Riggs pushed himself up from the floor in one smooth, anger-fueled movement. Shock made the men hesitate slightly, and that split second gave Riggs all the time he needed to reach the one who had made the comment about the knife. He lowered his head and kept right on running, plowing into the man and sending him careening into the counter. Roger, not about to let his partner get killed while he simply lay on the floor, hauled himself upright and ran towards the nearest masked man, landing a solid punch while the guy was distracted trying to aim his gun at Riggs.

Unfortunately nothing had happened to alter Riggs’ initial assessment of ‘too many bad guys.’ A shot rang out, echoing off the tiled walls and floors, and freezing everyone in place. Roger didn’t dare to breathe, sure that he had been shot and that as soon as he filled his lungs the pain would hit him. From the look on his face, the man he’d been fighting with had the same thought.

A small cry made Roger spin, terrified he was going to see the teller on the floor, clutching at her stomach. She was still standing and the relief was dizzying for a second, but then he saw what she was looking at. Riggs had slumped to the floor, hands pressed to his side, blood leaking through his fingers. 

“I… I didn’t mean to actually hit him.”

Roger crossed the room to his fallen partner, pulling off his jacket and waiting for the bang that would signify the SWAT team had heard the shot and were breaching the bank. He dropped to his knees and pulled Riggs’ hands away from the bullet wound to press the jacket against it, still hoping to hear a thud or crash. Instead all he heard was Riggs’ strained breathing, the quiet sobbing of the pregnant teller, and the repeated mutter of “But I didn’t mean to hit him.”

***

Another five minutes, and now nothing was silent. The hostages had all been herded into a small office, Riggs being half-carried by Roger. The cops outside obviously hadn’t heard the shot being fired, and the robbers were now in the main room talking over each other.

“Rog?” Riggs sounded angry. He was bleeding for goodness sake; how was still sounding angry? “I messed up… The woman…”

Roger shook his head frantically. “She’s fine. Apparently these guys are good are acting hard, but they aren’t capable of shooting an expectant mother. The guy who shot you did it by accident and practically peed his pants.” Roger immediately regretted his words as Riggs snorted then paled and gasped. “Hey, hey, relax, Riggs. Just, uh, just breathe through it man.”

“Rog?”

“Yeah, Riggs. I’m here.”

“You shoulda just let me… place that bet.”

Roger huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “No way, man. Gotta get you acting like a real grown up.” He waited for a response, a sly, dryly amused comeback, but Riggs didn’t oblige. “Riggs?” Roger pressed harder on the bloody mess of his jacket and yelled, “Hey! Hey, get in here! Now!”

He would never admit to being surprised when the door actually opened, just kept talking like he’d expected it. “You have to send this man out. He’s a cop, and he’s going to die without help.” Through the open door, he could hear panicked whispering and allowed himself a quick sigh of relief. Sure the rest of the hostages would still be in there, but he was willing to bet SWAT would breach almost immediately after hearing an officer had been shot.

The man standing in the doorway, however, was made of sterner stuff than his teammates. “If he dies, then he can’t testify.”

And the door slammed shut again before Roger could even draw a breath to argue the stupidity of that statement. Weak movement drew his attention back to Riggs, who was trying to push Roger’s hands away from his side.

“Stop that!” Roger snapped, sharper than he’d meant to be. One of the other hostages gasped at his tone. “C’mon, Riggs. You know I need to keep pressure on it.”

“Do you?” Riggs’ voice was so quiet, but Roger still felt his heart freeze at the question.

He knew exactly what Riggs meant, what he was asking, and he felt like shaking the man. “I am not letting up, Riggs. You are not dying in my arms, do you hear me? I am going to keep putting pressure on this, and you are going to keep breathing, you got that?”

“Rog…”

“No. Just no. We are not having this conversation. If you wanna see your wife so badly, you go to her on your own time!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Roger felt sick, like he’d made a terrible, unforgivable mistake.

But Riggs, barely conscious as he was, managed to summon a weak grin. “You know… I can’t.”

“Well then you ain’t!”

A nod this time, the grin taking too much energy, but it was a better response than Roger had expected, had even hoped for. He felt Riggs go limp beneath his hands, unconscious but still breathing, still hanging on. Roger kept his eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Riggs’ chest, counting his breaths.

Even as the SWAT team finally blew the doors and flooded the bank, Roger kept his attention focused on his partner, focused on keeping the stubborn idiot alive. In the back of his mind, Roger wondered briefly if Riggs’ wife would appreciate his efforts to look after her husband, but, as the uniformed men shouted for the EMTs, he decided he didn’t care. Riggs was his partner, and his friend, and Roger wasn’t going to look after him because of the imaginary ghost of a dead wife. He was going to do it because that’s what partners, and friends, are for.

**Author's Note:**

> Roger's determination that Riggs not throw away the money from the sale of his house promoted this whole thing. I can honestly say it's all his fault. Except for the ending, that was all me. Oh, and that whole middle part, that's on me too. And maybe a bit at the beginning.


End file.
